


An apology from Death

by StarLight37



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ignored, Other, SUICIDE TRIGGER WARNING PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE DISTRESSED BY IT, Sad, death feels bad, idk what else to add I’m tired and sad, im fine please don’t like report me or anything, not a happy ending i guess, vent fic, wrote this to cope with a depressive episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:03:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarLight37/pseuds/StarLight37
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE. Seriously, don’t read if you’re distressed by this stuff easily, I don’t want y’all to end up upset or something :(Death finds a body and apologizes.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	An apology from Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I wrote this during a depressive episode to cope with my overwhelming emotions but please don’t get worried or try to report me or something I’m okay now! I just wanna put this out there so maybe someone else can see it and maybe feel good? I dunno, it’s supposed to be a self insert for me mostly but the person is gender neutral so if you wanna imagine yourself as them then go ahead. Also I’m too tired to check for errors so just send a carrier pigeon to yell at me about it I guess 
> 
> Also I’m sorry if I made you cry
> 
> ALSO FINAL WARNING FOR SUICIDE TRIGGER!!!! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THAT IS DISTRESSING TO YOU!!

I’m sorry I had to find you like this. Here, in the woods. It’s cold. Your pale, almost blue body is sprawled out on the dirt and snow in front of me.

I’m sorry I’m the first one that found you. Your limbs gave out ages ago. You’ve been out here for at least a few hours. Little crystals of ice are forming on your eyelashes.

I’m sorry I’m here with you. You’re not moving. Not breathing. You haven’t been since this morning I bet. The blood from your throat has already turned to brown slush.

I’m sorry you did this. The knife is still clutched in your blue fingers. Your dull eyes are locked onto it. Your hair is clumped and strewn about. You look sad. You look tired. You look lonely.

I’m sorry you felt like this. You thought you were invisible. Ignored. No one cared for your interests. Moth people and the stars, right? Cats and dragons. Crystals and glowing creatures. Magic and monsters. They called you childish. ‘Grow up’ they’d say. It hurt you to hear that.

I’m sorry no one listened. To your stories. To your voice. To what you had to say. You looked so excited whenever someone would listen, only to have a look of pain when they stopped. Called you annoying. Called your interests annoying. Called you unfunny, your interests unfunny. Said neither you or what you were passionate about were interesting.

I’m sorry you were alone. Of course, you had friends. A close partner, even. But you felt distant from them. They claimed to know you, but did they really? You didn’t blame them for their disinterested replies, or when they asked you to change the subject. Why could you? It wasn’t their fault, you reasoned. It was yours.

I’m sorry no one noticed you. When you gave hints as to what was to come. When you cried. Broke down in class to only be sent off to be yelled at and ignored some more. When you decided not to go to school this morning. When you took nothing but a knife, a coat, and your pain deep into the woods.

I’m sorry they hurt you. Said you weren’t good enough. Said you had to be better, had to conform and do what would earn you money and a place, not what made you happy. Said you were being irrational. Said you were fat. Said you needed to take better care of yourself because you looked just _awful_. Said you needed to lighten up and that the world didn’t revolve around you. You knew it didn’t. It never did.

I’m sorry you thought you were unimportant. That no one wanted a ditzy moron. That no one would accept who or what you liked. That no one cared about people like you.

I’m sorry you went through with it. You did it alone. You were shaking, either because of the cold or your own anticipation. You spent a good while thinking. Reconsidering. I wish you did.

I’m sorry you were scared. Terrified of the thought of where you’d go after this. Heaven? Hell? Nowhere? You felt sick. You still did it though. You cried hard, loud, harsh sobs. And still, no one listened. You wanted it to be over with quickly. You thought you deserved to suffer, but then the thought of it made you shudder. You called yourself a coward as your arm moved on its own.

I’m sorry it hurt. You choked and tried to scream. It burned. You fell. That hurt too. You laid there gargling on your own blood. You were miserable. Your tears melted the snow beside the crimson spots.

I’m sorry this happened. Really, I am. Maybe I should’ve stepped in sooner. You were so lonely. So hurt. I feel guilt by looking at you. You were supposed to get married. Get a sweet, three legged dog. You would’ve named him Shiro. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I’m sorry I found you like this. It’s time for you to go now.


End file.
